


The Stories They Tell

by eriah211



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slash, Worried Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Worried Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23530807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eriah211/pseuds/eriah211
Summary: Something goes wrong on a hunt and Jaskier does something brave, or stupid, or both, because he loves his witcher too much.ORSome old fairy tales retelling, slightly dark and a bit angsty, but with enough fluff at the end to make it all better, as old-fashioned fairy tales usually do.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 218





	1. The Witch and The Dagger

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to The Witcher fandom, inspired by some old fairy tales. It's a VERY loose retelling of a few different tales (more on this at the end of the fic) , but there were some bits of them that just screamed 'Geraskier' and I had to try to write a story about them.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful goldarrow, I couldn't have made this without her!

The sky was already getting dark and Geralt still hadn’t come back from the forest.

The slight worry Jaskier had felt when the witcher had left him in the tavern to go on a hunt hours ago had grown into something close to panic, but surely Geralt was fine. He had to be.

The villagers who had hired Geralt to fight the creatures that haunted their town had been cheerful and generous at first, offering Jaskier food and beer while they waited for his return, but a few hours later the general mood had darkened considerably and Jaskier had started noticing the whispering and the suspicious side-glances.

The smug smile on the witch’s face had been the worst thing, though. She had been about to be hired to kill the beasts when Geralt had walked in and offered to do it for half the exorbitant price she had asked for. She clearly hadn’t been pleased, but for some reason she had simply shrugged her shoulders and found a place in a corner of the tavern where she had sat down with a drink, ignoring the cheers of the crowd in honour of the White Wolf. Hours later, she was still there, waiting placidly wrapped in her black cloak with a satisfied smirk on her face.

Eventually, feeling too anxious to wait any longer, Jaskier had announced, as nonchalantly as he had managed, that he was going to wait for Geralt by the edge of the woods, getting only a few glares in return from people who had obviously already lost their faith in the witcher. He had hung his lute at his back and had taken Roach with him to the forest and when they had reached the first trees, Jaskier had stopped and waited anxiously while he groomed Roach’s mane simply to have something to do with his hands.

The job wasn’t even supposed to be too dangerous, he thought, they weren’t creatures that Geralt hadn’t fought before. But truth be told, the few witnesses that had lived to tell their story had mentioned the nekkers had behaved viciously, attacking even each other in a frenzy of rage. Jaskier had thought that people had simply embellished their tale of horror, but maybe, he wondered, they should have paid more attention to it.

It wouldn’t be long until sunset now and there was still no sign of Geralt so Jaskier finally decided to go deeper into the forest to look for him before it would be too dark. Surely Geralt was fine and he was simply going to scold him for not waiting back at the tavern like he had told him, but Jaskier couldn’t simply wait there while his treacherous mind kept conjuring up images of Geralt hurt, bleeding out with nobody by his side to help him.

He was trying to gather up the courage to cross the first line of trees when a noise at his back startled him. A woman, a young widow he knew from the village, was walking hurriedly towards him followed by her three daughters. Her husband had been one of the first people slaughtered by the creatures and Jaskier remembered her very well because of the fervent look she had in her eyes when Geralt had promised them he would kill the nekkers.

When they reached him, Jaskier noticed the young girls’ lovely hair had been roughly cut so short that he could see the scalp in some places and he wondered, horrified, what had happened to them, if it had been some kind of accident, or more likely, judging by the anguished look on their faces, a punishment.

“The witcher still hasn’t come back, has he?” the woman asked, her face tense and serious.

“No, but I’m sure he will soon,” Jaskier replied, faking a confidence he no longer felt.

He was usually a charming liar, but this time his answer didn’t seem to convince the widow in the slightest. She frowned, looking displeased, and she suddenly raised her hand, which had been hidden in the folds of her skirt, showing Jaskier the pointy end of a small dagger that shone a few inches away from his face.

Jaskier heart skipped a beat as he took a step back and he wildly wondered for a moment if after so many adventures by Geralt’s side, facing monsters and other dangers, he was going to die at the hands of a grieving widow who was disappointed with them.

Jaskier raised his hands in a placating manner, trying to come up with something that would calm the woman down, but before he could open his mouth, she surprised him again.

“Take this, bard,” the widow said, turning the handle of the dagger to offer it to him. “And help the witcher to keep his word.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“We asked the witch to help us, since it was obvious the Butcher of Blaviken on his own wasn’t going to be enough to save us from those monsters,” the woman explained, her voice hard and unforgiving. “And she gave us this dagger. It’s enchanted, you just have to wound the creatures with it, even a scratch will do, and no matter how powerful, they’ll die right away.”

No more ‘White Wolf’, Jaskier noticed bitterly. As soon as there was any problem, people turned on the witcher no matter how much he had tried to help them.

“Why would the witch help us?” Jaskier asked, sceptical. “What does she want in return?”

“We’ve already paid the price she asked for,” she replied, harshly. “All the coins we had saved and my daughters’ hair, but she refused to kill the beasts herself since we disregarded her previous offer so lightly. If it wasn’t for you and that witcher, she would have already killed those monsters and we would be able to sleep in peace tonight.”

“That’s not fair,” Jaskier protested, hurt by the woman’s words. “We’ve only tried to help you. Geralt has put his life in danger for you all and he didn’t even take a coin from you in advance.”

“The witch had already agreed to help us, we didn’t need you! But you came in with your smooth talk and big words and we offended her,” the woman replied angrily. “We were lucky she decided to help us again after we apologized.”

“And after you gave her all she wanted,” he muttered sourly.

“That’s no concern of yours, bard,” she snapped. “Now, give the dagger to the witcher if he is still alive, or use it yourself if you are brave enough. Either way, don’t come back to our town if you don’t do as you promised or you won’t be welcome!”

She brusquely offered him the dagger again, urging Jaskier to take it and he eventually obeyed, hesitantly grabbing the handle.

Without adding any more words, the widow and the three teary-eyed girls turned around and headed back to the village, leaving him behind.

Jaskier watched them walk away and then, finally making up his mind, he turned to Roach and brushed her mane softly.

“You understand I have to go and make sure that big oaf is safe, right?” he said to her as he took his lute and hung it from her saddle. “You wait here for us, girl, I’m sure it won’t take us long.”

Then, after taking a deep breath, Jaskier walked determinedly into the forest.

***

Jaskier tried to be as quiet as possible as he wandered through the forest, even though he knew it was probably pointless.

No matter how careful he tried to be, Jaskier was sure the hearing of the beasts that lurked in that forest was more than good enough to hear him coming, but he was not going back until he knew Geralt was fine so he held the dagger in a firm grip and kept going.

He had been wandering around for a few minutes with his heart in his throat, when a chuckle startled him, almost making him jump out of his skin.

“You look so brave, bard,” the teasing voice of the witch said from above.

Jaskier looked up bewilderedly to discover the witch, calmly sitting on a tree branch as if it was the most common place to wait for the night.

“What are you doing here?” Jaskier asked, suspiciously.

Her dark cloak and the leaves of the ancient tree made it difficult to see her face clearly in the dim light of the forest, but still Jaskier couldn’t fail to notice the flash of teeth that her smug smile showed.

“I was just curious,” she said. “I wanted to know what you would do with my gift.”

“It’s not a gift if you’ve charged the people of that town for it,” Jaskier replied sharply before he could stop himself.

“Well, I wasn’t going to help them for free after they scorned me as soon as you and your witcher walked in. That was terribly rude,” she said, coldly. “But I gave them what they needed to defeat the monsters in the end, didn’t I?”

“And this is it?” Jaskier replied, waving the small dagger at her. “This is all we got to kill the creatures that had slaughtered so many?”

“It’s enough. When the time comes, use it and you will live. Fail and you will die here and many other people from that town will die afterwards,” she added. “Those creatures, they have contracted a rare disease that has made them go mad, I’ve seen it before in my travels. They have to be stopped and that dagger is the only way to do it.”

Jaskier wondered how much truth there was in the witch’s words, but in the end he realised it didn’t matter if he could completely trust her or not, since he had no one else to turn to for help, so instead of annoying the woman with more sharp words, he decided to hold his tongue for now.

“Is there any advice you would want to give to this poor bard in this time of need?” he asked with his most charming smile.

“Yes. Don’t hesitate to use it,” the witch replied drily. “And try not to scratch yourself with the blade while you are at it.”

“Oh, well, thank you so much for that invaluable piece of advice,” Jaskier replied with thick sarcasm, good intentions already forgotten. “Would you at least tell me which way I should go from here to find Geralt?” he asked, turning around to wave his arms helplessly at the sea of trees surrounding him.

He couldn’t keep walking around the forest aimlessly. It was going to get dark soon and even if there was going to be a full moon in the sky that night, his sight wasn’t as good as the witcher’s, not by far.

“Don’t worry, bard, you’ll find him soon enough.”

The tone of her voice made Jaskier shiver and when he turned back to look at her, he realised she was gone, disappeared as if she had never been there in the first place.

Cursing under his breath, Jaskier did the only thing he could, he started walking again while he prayed not to be too late.

***

In the end, it didn’t take him long to find Geralt, that much had been true.

He had been walking aimlessly for a few minutes when he thought he heard a noise nearby and after following it very cautiously, Jaskier reached a small clearing where the signs of a gruesome battle were clearly visible.

Lying around on the ground, there were severed limbs and different pieces of what had probably been four or five nekkers, maybe more. It would have been difficult to count the limbs even if Jaskier had really made an effort, but his mind was focused on a different figure that was kneeling on the ground not far away.

Geralt, Jaskier thought, his breath catching at the sight, he was alive.

The sheer happiness he felt at finding the witcher didn’t last long, though. Geralt might be alive, but it was clear the man was in pain. He had lost most of his armour in what surely had been a desperate fight and his hair, loose and dishevelled, was covering his face from Jaskier’s sight, but the way he was rocking slightly as his broad shoulders shook, told Jaskier that something was very wrong.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called out worriedly as he started walking closer.

Geralt stopped moving, his shoulders tensing noticeably, but he still didn’t turn around to look at the bard.

Jaskier had taken just a few steps towards the witcher when Geralt stood up with a growl that made his blood run cold and surged towards him. Instinctively, Jaskier took a few steps back, but he stumbled over some roots and lost his footing.

He didn’t fall to the ground, though, because Geralt’s hands grabbed the front of his doublet and pushed him roughly backwards until Jaskier’s back hit against a tree. His head banged painfully against the trunk and as he struggled to understand what was happening, Jaskier found himself staring at the black eyes of a feral witcher.

Even though Geralt had always tried to keep him away on those situations, Jaskier had seen the witcher under the effect of his potions a few times, but this time it was different. The dark eyes looked glazed and the witcher didn’t seem to recognize him at all. Black veins spread from his eyes down to his neck, disappearing under his shirt and his whole frame seemed to be tense in barely contained fury.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasped, confused, but he didn’t have the chance to add anything else because Geralt’s hand gripped his neck tightly, making it difficult to breathe.

Jaskier could hear a low growl coming from the witcher and although their faces were just a few inches apart, Geralt was acting like he didn’t know who the bard was at all. The grip on his neck tightened and for the first time since he had met the witcher, Jaskier was afraid of him.

“Use the dagger, you fool!”

The voice of the witch reached Jaskier’s ears not from too far away. Geralt heard her too and turned sharply around to find the source of the noise, easing his grip on the bard’s neck and allowing him to breathe again.

“The disease of those creatures has somehow got to him, he’s beyond reach, bard,” the witch said as she stood at the other side of the clearing. “Use the dagger to kill him and save yourself!”

Those words startled him out of his stupor and Jaskier remembered then that he was still holding the dagger in a firm grip by his side.

“It’s your only option, if you want to live…” she said with a cruel smile. “You kill the monster and you get out of here with your life and a lesson learned: never cross a witch.”

Geralt was looking at her, shoulders tense and ready to strike, but he seemed reluctant to let go of the prey he already had in his hands.

“And what will you get? Revenge?” Jaskier replied bitterly, wondering if that had been her plan all along.

The sound of Jaskier’s voice attracted Geralt’s attention towards him and he was again pushed roughly against the tree.

“I get my gold and the maidens’ hair,” Jaskier heard the witch saying. “But once you’ve done your part, I’ll have the witcher’s eyes and also his cold heart. It has certainly been of little use to him, but a witcher’s heart is very valuable and the eyes, oh, the eyes are an exquisite ingredient as well.”

Geralt turned his head to look at the witch once again, but something was still holding him back and making him hesitate.

Jaskier realised that this was his chance, he could scratch Geralt’s arm now that he was distracted by the witch. But that couldn’t be the only way, Jaskier thought anguished, the dagger in his hand feeling as heavy as the biggest sword.

“Geralt? Geralt!” Jaskier said, trying to reach the witcher again. “I know you’re still in there, please, Geralt… You know me-“

The witcher turned to look at him with his teeth bared in an animalistic grimace. He looked ready to snap Jaskier’s neck at any moment. It was time to choose.

He had been a fool for so long, Jaskier thought, bitterly, a fool in love. Even though he knew Geralt was never going to return his feelings, he still had been by his side all these years, because staying away from him for too long felt unbearable. And now that Jaskier’s life was in danger, he was supposed to kill him in order to survive. Geralt wouldn’t suffer and Jaskier would live to see another day, he just had to kill the man he loved, a man that didn’t love him back and never would.

When this was over, Jaskier could write the most epic ballad in Geralt’s honour so everybody would remember how brave and noble Geralt of Rivia had been. But Jaskier would also have to spend the rest of his life with his heart broken, torn into a million little pieces.

Jaskier looked at the black eyes of the witcher and knew he couldn’t do it. He would rather die as the fool he was.

Jaskier opened his hand and let the dagger fall to the ground.

He was going to die at the hands of the man he loved so it was true that, in the end, he was going to die a broken-hearted man.

“Geralt,” he whispered, the air leaving his lungs to say what he was sure were going to be his last words. “I love you.”

Confusion flickered across Geralt’s face after Jaskier uttered those words, his black eyes blinking slowly as the grip of his hands loosened lightly, but almost immediately the furious voice of the witch made Geralt tense once again.

“Stupid bard! Do I have to do everything myself?”

Jaskier didn’t have the chance to see what the evil woman intended to do because suddenly Geralt pushed him away so violently that he ripped his doublet in the process.

Jaskier had barely time to see Geralt surging towards the witch when suddenly the air felt heavy with the familiar feeling of magic and then everything went dark.


	2. It Ends Like This

Geralt woke up with a start and for a moment he didn’t know where he was, but the unsettling images that had plagued his mind while he had been unconscious made him stand fully alert immediately.

Soon, shreds of memories started to come back to him. The fight against the creatures, so fierce and desperate that the witcher had thought it was going to be his last. A bloodlust so intense that consumed everything in him, no matter how much he tried to keep it on a leash. And Jaskier, he remembered, shuddering, Jaskier looking scared, Jaskier looking heart-broken.

Geralt had felt he couldn’t control the rage that had burned inside him, but surely he wouldn’t have hurt Jaskier. The bard wasn’t even supposed to be near the forest, he remembered, he was supposed to be waiting for him back at the tavern.

Geralt tried desperately to remember, but the images that came to his mind were scattered and hazy. Taking a look around him Geralt saw on the ground a piece of blue fabric that he immediately recognized. It was a piece of Jaskier’s colourful doublet. With a sickening feeling, he remembered grabbing the bard, pushing him around and the urge to hurt him, to kill him.

Geralt scanned the clearing, trying to find a sign of Jaskier, but all he could see were the rotting pieces of the creatures he had killed.

The witcher had worried plenty of times about Jaskier following him around, putting himself in harm’s way because he was too stubborn to listen to him when Geralt told him to wait far away. The man was an idiot, but he was his idiot and Geralt had always tried to keep him safe when things got dangerous. 

Geralt knew, though, that he should have pushed Jaskier away for good for his own safety a long time ago, but Geralt was selfish and weak and the truth that he didn’t even like to admit to himself was that he missed the bard when he wasn’t around. He missed his constant chatting, the way he looked at him with a warm smile and bright blue eyes and how he had never, not once, looked at him with fear.

The thought of losing the bard like this made his chest tighten, making it difficult to breathe. Geralt had closed his eyes, trying to keep his thoughts under control, when a familiar voice startled him.

“No need to worry, witcher, the bard is over there.”

Triss Merigold walked calmly into the clearing, smiling lightly.

“He is… alive?”

“Yes, he is,” she replied as she pointed at a thorn bush on the edge of the clearing. “He’s just sleeping.”

As Geralt walked towards that point, he saw the sleeping form of Jaskier, who had been hidden from view by the thick bush. As he got closer, though, Geralt realised he could easily hear the bard’s faint heartbeat. He cursed himself for his foolishness. He would have heard it sooner if he hadn’t been feeling so… what was the word, he wondered? Devastated? Anguished? Guilty? He found it difficult to name or fully understand feelings that witchers supposedly didn’t have.

“You were so lucky I got here in time,” Triss said. “I had been tracking this witch for a while, since I started suspecting she had something to do with the strange behaviour of some creatures in different parts of the kingdom.”

So the rage that had consumed the creatures and then Geralt himself hadn’t been natural, he thought, not really surprised. Probably a poison of some kind. Terrified villagers would be willing to pay anything to get rid of feral monsters and the witch only had to appear in time to save them all for a not so fair price.

“How long have we been sleeping?” Geralt asked as he knelt by Jaskier’s side.

He was lying on his front, his face as pale as a ghost, but the soothing sound of the bard’s heartbeat was a clear sign that he was very much alive.

“Three nights and three days,” Triss replied. “I couldn’t risk the witch running away, and you were out of your mind, so I put a spell on every living creature in this forest, just to be sure. I made it last long enough so your body would have got rid of the poison by the time you woke up.”

Geralt turned Jaskier gently to lie on his back and checked the bard, looking for injuries. There were some nasty-looking bruises around Jaskier’s neck, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding or have any other visible injuries. Now, if he just stopped looking so pale and so dead and he opened his eyes to look at him with kindness, like he usually did, Geralt knew he could breathe deeply again.

“Why isn’t he awake?” the witcher asked Triss, more harshly than intended.

“Don’t fret, witcher, he’ll be waking up soon, just like the others,” she replied, ignoring the witcher’s tone. “It will be as if he had simply been taking a nap.”

A few feet away from them, Geralt noticed a sudden movement and turned to see a small bird twisting weakly on the ground and finally flapping its wings strong enough to fly away.

When he turned back to look at Jaskier, Geralt noticed, relieved, that colour was returning to his face. The bard’s eyelids fluttered, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

“The witch is already locked in a dungeon and she’ll be held responsible for her actions so you don’t need to look for her, seeking revenge,” Triss warned him as she started walking away.

Geralt simply grunted, promising nothing.

“Take good care of your bard, Geralt. He had to face a very difficult choice, but he was very brave.”

Confused by those words, Geralt turned to ask her what she meant, but she had already disappeared.

Jaskier groaned softly and Geralt leaned over him to softly brush some dirt and dried leaves away from his face, his hand lingering on his cheek as the bard’s blue eyes opened slowly.

Jaskier blinked a few times with a confused expression on his face and Geralt immediately took his hand away, ready to put some distance between them, but in an instant the dazed expression was replaced by a bright smile as Jaskier finally woke up completely.

“Geralt!” Jaskier said. “You’re alive!”

Then, before Geralt could say anything to reassure or maybe chastise the bard, Jaskier threw his arms around Geralt’s neck and closed the gap between them to kiss the witcher.

Geralt had barely had time to gasp in surprise against Jaskier’s lips when the bard broke the kiss and looked at him with a shocked expression on his face.

“I-I… I’m sorry, Geralt,” Jaskier stuttered as he let go of him. “You see, mmm, I was… I didn’t mean... I simply wanted to, you know… I thought you were dead, or maybe I was dead and…”

Another memory came back to Geralt as he watched the bard, who was looking at him with wide, panicked eyes while he stumbled over his own words. It was Jaskier, looking at him with sadness and softly whispering some words Geralt had never expected to be directed at him.

“You said you loved me,” Geralt said out loud in surprise, stopping Jaskier’s attempts to apologize.

Jaskier hesitated, biting his lower lip nervously, but then he looked straight at Geralt’s eyes as he took a deep breath.

“Yes, I did,” he admitted, his expression serious. “Because it’s true.”

Geralt stared at him in disbelief, but the look on the bard’s eyes was kind and honest and it made his heart flutter when he knew it shouldn’t, because witcher’s didn’t love and weren’t loved. Except that it looked like Jaskier did and just the thought of it made Geralt feel warm inside.

“Geralt? Say something, please?” Jaskier pleaded, looking increasingly unsure.

The witcher wanted to tell him that his words had made him happy, that Jaskier was important to him too, but when he opened his mouth to speak he found himself lost at words, as usual, and he frowned, frustrated.

“Or don’t,” Jaskier immediately added, obviously taking the witcher’s expression for rejection. “I understand you don’t feel that way about me, I don’t expect anything from you, really. I just thought, for a moment, I was sure, really, that I was going to die and I wanted to tell you at least once, because, you know, I do love you, I’ve loved you for so long, but you don’t love me back and that’s fine-“

Geralt had never been good with words, but his instincts, after years of training, had always served him well so he decided to let his instincts take over this time as well. His hand grasped Jaskier’s neck and he leaned down to kiss him deeply, stopping the babbling he wasn’t even listening to anyway.

Jaskier kissed him back, moaning loudly in Geralt’s mouth as he pressed his body against the witcher’s, clearly happy about his answer, even if he didn’t use any words. When they reluctantly broke apart, Geralt took a good look at Jaskier’s flushed face and parted lips and the witcher decided he liked that look on the bard very much.

“Geralt…” Jaskier gasped, still breathless. 

“Jaskier,” the witcher said as he leaned back, resisting the urge to claim the bard’s lips again. “You’re a moron. Why did you come here?”

He was still upset that Jaskier had put his life at risk like that, no matter how good and surprising the outcome had been.

Jaskier smiled softly at him and then huffed as he frowned in fake annoyance.

“I risked my life for you, Geralt,” he complained, pouting lightly. “And you insult me?”

“You should have stayed at the tavern.”

“Oh, I was supposed to let you die, right?” Jaskier replied, arms waving dramatically. “What would Roach have thought about that, hmm? And just so you know-“

He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly looking around. “Roach!”

“Was she here with you?”

“I-I left her at the edge of the forest, right by the path to the village,” Jaskier explained, wide eyes looking at Geralt with worry. “She should be fine, right?”

“I’m sure she is,” the witcher reassured him. “Roach was probably affected by the same spell that knocked us out. We should go find her.”

“Spell? What spell?” Jaskier asked as Geralt helped him to stand up. “What did I miss? How long have I been unconscious? Geralt, I need all the details!”

Geralt groaned, trying to hide a smile. Of course Jaskier would immediately start asking questions. He tried to patiently answer all of them as they walked through the forest and by the time they reached the edge, where Roach was waiting for them calmly, Jaskier was already talking about writing a new ballad.

“Maybe it won’t be the most spectacular of my creations, that’s true,” the bard mused out loud. “But if I polish your ferocious battle against the beasts a bit, it could still make a fantastic ballad. The part where you wake me up from the magic slumber with a kiss would make a great ending.”

“That’s not how it happened,” Geralt replied, only mildly annoyed. “You kissed me first and you were very much awake when you did it.”

“Oh, but that wouldn’t make a good story, Geralt. You have to give something special to your audience so they’ll remember it.”  
Geralt simply sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Jaskier said after a moment, looking at him intently. “Now that we know Roach is fine, we could go back to our previous, erm, conversation…”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, tilting his head slightly, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“Or we could skip it to the part where we kiss again, if you want to…” Jaskier added with a mischievous smile.

And Geralt complied, kissing him lazily, the bard’s hands grasping at the front of his shirt as Roach neighed impatiently, waiting for them to walk away from that forest.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so Fairy Tales more or less loosely mentioned:
> 
> The Little Mermaid: main inspiration for the dagger and the heart-breaking choice (fairy tales used to be so cruel!). Also the mermaid's sisters gave their hair as payment to the witch to get that dagger so their sister would save herself.
> 
> Sleeping Beauty: well, it looked like the perfect fluffy ending, even if the thorn bush didn't surround the sleeping beauty for a hundred years and the prince didn't wake him up with a kiss. Stories aren't exactly as they told us, Jaskier would say.
> 
> Alice in Wonderland: I really tried to add a hint of the Cheshire cat there in the forest, but maybe it was too vague. I hope it was creepy enough, at least.


End file.
